


Moonlight

by Tiger_Lilly13



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, Daedra, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, Mates, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Oral Sex, Romance, Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Smut to come in chapter 3, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiger_Lilly13/pseuds/Tiger_Lilly13
Summary: Strung up like an animal…left here to die…it is no more than he deserves.He can still smell the blood…can still hear the screams…He couldn’t stop, he didn’t mean to…But he did, and now he has to face the consequences.Until fate changes course and Sinding has a chance, and the will, to live again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Super duper credits and kudos goes to my lovely new friend elven_prophecy for beta reading this and keeping me motivated!! You rock!! :D

Iron cuffs encircle around his wrists, the chains straining against the stone wall with his weight, lifting him up in an uncomfortable T pose, the muscles of his shoulders aching at the stretch. Shallow water ripples below, threatening to rot his feet, the moonlight reflecting brightly into his eyes to blind him as the darkness and isolation of the dingy cell swallow him whole.

Strung up like an animal…left here to die…it is no more than he deserves.

He can still smell the blood…can still hear the screams…He couldn’t stop, he didn’t mean to…

Sinding should never have come here. He should never have stolen that damn ring. He should have just learned to tame his beast the right way, not look for an easier solution. And now…now an entire family has to grieve for his impatience. Grieve for a daughter that barely started her life. All because of him.

His head hangs in disgrace, dirty blond hair covering his face. There is no retribution for what he has done.

There is a commotion at the top of his cell, “The Pit” as the locals call it. He does not care. Perhaps they have finally decided to come and kill him. The waiting has been excruciating, but no more painful than the father that has to bury what was left of his daughter. He clenches his eyes shut against the tears that threaten to spill.

But then, a scent catches his attention, or rather catches his wolf’s attention. Not one he is familiar with. More earthy, with lavender, and something sweet he cannot identify just yet.

He cranes his neck up with great effort, the bones popping from being strained for so long. A voice filters down to his ears, the echo distorting the tone. He can’t quite make it out, it is more of a murmur, but he can tell it is female, “I can’t speak to him while he is shackled down there.”

He does recognize the thick accented voice of the young guard that threw him down here, “What do ya want us to do? I’m not openin’ the door.”

“Then release him from his chains.”

“I don’t think that’s-”

There is silence after that, but after a few moments, the chains on the wall release, causing him to fall onto his hands and knees into the murky water below with a loud splash, the cool liquid washing away some of the dirt and grime on his skin. He is able to push himself up into a kneeling position, his tired muscles remembering how to maneuver. He is still in iron cuffs, but now the chains have more give and he can move freely throughout his cage.

He barely has time to gather his thoughts before the woman’s voice calls to him, “You there. Come closer.”

He looks up at the stranger who has given him momentary reprieve and moves to stand, wading through the water and striding up the steps, his beast blood making recovery from the abuse almost instant. As he gets closer to her, her scent becomes overwhelming and his eyes flicker from grey to gold without his permission, his wolf excited. Once in front of her at the top of the stairs, he cannot see much of her face due to the hooded mask she wears. But her eyes, they are striking. As red as the most flawless of rubies, glittering in the moonlight shining in through the window inside his cell.

Her light armor is gray and black, with strange patterns and intricate markings he’s never seen before. A golden amulet surrounds her thin neck with a dark cloak flowing behind her. She has a bow over her shoulder, Deadric by the looks of it, and he briefly worries if she is a follower of Hircine come to collect on his debt. She certainly is menacing enough, but it does not go unnoticed how she ogles his naked torso with barely restrained interest, instinctively causing him to stand straighter and puff out his chest for her.

The woman shoos the guards away with no more than a glare, much to their unwillingness to leave their posts, but once they have scurried off up the stairs and left them alone, she finally takes off the black hood and red scarf covering her face.

She is a tiny Bosmer, the top of her head barley coming up to his chin. Her long hair is as dark as Ebony ingots and her skin unusually pale for her kind. Her brows are perfectly groomed and she wears deep red war paint over her left eye, one marking above the eye and two descending downward to her high, elegant cheekbone. His own eyes wonder to her lips, plump and pink and he subconsciously has the urge to nip at them.

She is beautiful and his wolf howls for her.

“What is your name?” Now that he is right next to her, her voice is sultry and smooth. Feminine, yet powerful. Ever present now, his wolf purrs at the strength behind it.

He bows in respect, “Sinding, my lady.” 

“What is your crime?”

He lowers his head in shame, “I…murdered a young girl.”

There is pause, wind from the windows causing ripples in the water to lightly lick up the stone, fires in the hearths beyond his cage cracking and snapping. She asks, more forceful, “Why would you do such a thing?”

He winces at her accusatory tone, but he is deserving of it, “You would not believe me if I told you the truth.” He already tried to tell the guards, pleaded with them that it was an accident, but they refused to listen to him. Not that he blamed them.

“I’ve believed many implausible things, you will not surprise me.”

He eyes her suspiciously for a moment, shifting where he stands, and gauging whether or not to just blurt it out, or to keep it a secret. What was the use? If he is going to die here anyway, there is no point in hiding it from her. He stands straighter and looks directly into her eyes, unwavering, “I am a werewolf.” He watches her intently for her response, but all she does is blink and wait for him to continue. “I…wanted to find something to maintain the beast inside me, to put a leash on the wolf and protect the people around me.”

He turns to pace back and forth in front of the bars like a caged animal and the irony is not lost on him, his chains dragging across the stone floor, “I was able to acquire a ring that could control the beast and let me lead a normal life, but Hircine is a tricky bastard.” His beast growls at the mere mention of the Deadric Prince, “The ring was cursed by him after he found out I stole it, and in doing so, caused my transformations to become unpredictable. I could never guess when it would happen; it would be at the worst of times,” He swallows the lump in his throat, his voice shaking, “Like with Lavinia. That poor girl did not deserve what I did to her.”

She steps closer to the bars; her voice is soft as she asks, “What did you do to her?”

He takes a deep, steadying breath before he tells her, “I was in Falkreath only because I was tracking a beast that if slain, meant I had a chance to appease Hircine and get this damned curse lifted in giving back his ring, but…the girl. She was out picking flowers in the fields where the stag was grazing. I felt the wolf start to take control. I fought with it, tried with all my might to contain it and then…” he sighs heavily, stopping his pacing and closing his eyes, “It all goes blank. The wolf had taken over.” He opens them again and looks down at his hands with resentment, “When I came to and had control over myself again I…looked down, saw the blood, the girl was…in pieces.” He grabs his hair and grips it, breath labored and gritting his teeth. The image of her, torn to shreds, scattered all over the pasture…by his own hands…

“I see.”

He whirls, grabbing the bars and getting as close as he can to the Bosmer on the other side, the iron cuffs clanging against the metal loudly, “Is that all you have to say?” He demands. He just told her how he murdered a young girl in cold blood as a beast and all she can say is, ‘I see’?!

Her tone remains calm, and his eyes must be deceiving him, because he swears he can see pity in her own ruby orbs. Her voice is gentle as she leans in closer to him, wrapping her own hands around the bars below his, “I am familiar with your kind; I have dealt with them before. I understand how…impulsive the wolf can be.” He does not miss how her eyes glaze over for a moment, deep in thought, before returning his inquisitive stare.

She is so close to him that he could kiss her through the bars, and his wolf demands he do it, to see if she tastes as good as she smells, but he resists and he whispers to her, “How could you possibly understand?”

Her ruby eyes flit down to his lips and she unconsciously licks her own, causing his cock to stir at the sight, and he is sure that she is going to close the distance between them. Her voice is quiet and he can feel her breath against his lips, “I…” But before she can finish her sentence, she backs away abruptly and straightens, a blank expression adorning her face, “This is a conversation for another time. Now about that ring you mentioned…”

He lets go of the bars slowly, his wolf disappointed and if he must say, he is also saddened by their lack of nearness. He mentally shakes his head, belittling himself for his foolishness as he responds to her, “What about it?”

“I could take it to Hircine for you.”

He is taken back by her offer and blinks in surprise, “You would do that?” If this woman were to return the ring, then maybe he would be free of Hircine at last. But he cannot help but worry for her safety.

She levels him with an indignant stare, “I am not afraid of the Lord of The Hunt.” His wolf practically purrs at her bravery.

Sinding lets out a relieved breath, “I would be most grateful. I don’t want this damned thing anywhere near me.” He takes the ring from inside his pocket and hands it to her through the bars. On a whim, he grabs her hand gently and puts the ring in her palm, closing her fingers around it in an intimate gesture, holding her hand, “Look for the white stag. The beast should still be in the woods outside of town. Slay it and return the ring to Hircine.” He doesn’t let her go, and proceeds to urge her, “Please be careful. He is of the Daedra and he will deceive you if given the chance.”

She gives him a smirk that ruffles his wolf’s fur, “I’ll be alight.”

He does not know what comes over him, but he reaches out through the bars and lays his hand on her cheek, caressing her smooth skin, “Thank you. I mean it.” She leans into his touch and the corner of her lips raise in a half smile that warms his heart and calms the beast inside him.

He releases her and backs away down the stairs, “Now I must leave this place, before I am flayed alive by the townspeople. If we are to cross paths again, I will remember your kindness, and your beautiful face.” _And your intoxicating scent_, he doesn’t say.

Sinding watches her blush prettily and hold the ring to her chest before he turns around and goes to stand in the middle of the room. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, calling on his wolf to come forth. Slowly, his limbs elongate, sharp fangs push through his human teeth, and black fur sprouts all over his body. He has done this transformation many times now, and he no longer feels the pain. The ratted trousers shred from his body as he fully transitions into his wolf, pulling the cuffs off with ease with a growl. He does not have as much control in this form, being on the other side of his mind, but something about that ring caused him to be completely caged and unable to be one with his beast.

As his wolf scents the air for danger outside his prison, he whips his head around to the little wood elf at the top of the stairs where she remains, still staring at him, and he catches another scent drifting off of her.

He sees her biting her lower lip, watching him intently with those ruby orbs and he picks up on her racing heartbeat. The scent of her obvious arousal washes over him like a shroud and he is momentarily dazed. The wolf wants to go to her, wants to take this female with him that is clearly interested, but Sinding scolds him inside his head, we do not have time, we must leave now.

To his surprise, his wolf actually listens to him and with a huff, scales the dungeon walls up to the window, bursting through into the moonlight. He knows a place, a place where he can be safe, where he can never hurt anyone. He bounds through the forest, cloaked in darkness, towards the alcove that will be his home. As he leaps over the river toward Bloated Man’s Grotto, he wonders if he will ever get to see the little Bosmer again.

His wolf snarls.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some more!! Again, super kudos to elven_prophecy for beta reading and helping me through some tough dialogue!!  
Smut will be in chapter three!! Now to practice spelling Daedra correctly...

With a name like Bloated Man’s Grotto, one wouldn’t expect it to be a pleasant place to be. It sounds more like a place where corpses lay to rot and a land infested with decaying draugr and reanimated skeletons, but that is far from the truth. He guesses maybe it was named so dreadfully to avoid anyone from entering the cave and finding its peaceful serenity. He half expected it to be already taken by some mercenaries or bandits, filled to the brim with orphans or run away salves, but when he arrives, it is untouched, only inhabited by the local wildlife, and thankfully no white stag in sight. A perfect abode for him to live the rest of his days, far away from innocent men and mer alike. He has been running from his curse for what feels like an eternity. It will be nice to be able to settle into a place to call home and not put anyone else in danger.

It only took an hour to discover the alcove and find his way into the valley. Tranquil waterfalls dot the sides of the mountains, old Nordic ruins with crumbling stairs leading throughout the rounded trails and stone arches hovering overhead barely intact. He begins to scout the area, following the winding, congruent paths and securing any openings with rocks too heavy for any man to move on his own. He surveys the high ridges of the peaks surrounding his chosen spot. No one is getting over those, too steep and unsteady. There is only one entrance to his paradise and he has it barricaded.

Finally, he is able to enjoy being in his beast form when there is no one around, and he sprints through the twisting paths, the wind in his fur and the wolf blood running hot inside his veins. Here, he can be himself without worrying for anyone else, without the judgment and without the shame. With the ring finally gone, he is able to be one with his wolf, letting the beast roam and only observing from inside his head. Though with this new found independence, he will never forget the woman’s kindness for his freedom, thoughts of her simmering in his mind and causing his beast to growl. Having to leave her behind was difficult, but it was the right thing to do. She helped him when he was undeserving, and he will not put her in harm’s way for his own selfish needs, no matter what his wolf begs him to do.

And Lavinia…he will never forget that little girl. She will always be a reminder of the repercussions of his stupidity.

It is near midnight when he catches a rabbit scurrying through the bushes, the wolf sniffing it out easily. He treads near the opening of the cave next to the pool that flows from the falls and he transitions back into his Nordic form, not bothering to clothe himself as he starts a fire while stringing up the hare for preparation. He begins to cook a meal that he hasn’t had for days, his stomach tightening at the smell of the delicious meat roasting over the flames.

He is just about to dine on his first taste of food in days, when suddenly, the sky begins to turn unnatural colors. The valley is slowly bathed in crimson and one of the the moons edges closer to the earth, the wildlife rushing out of the grotto in a panic. His ears twitch as the hollers and shouts of men echo throughout his new home, originating from the entrance and getting closer with every heavy breath he takes. This can only mean one thing.

Hircine has sent his hunters after him.

Immediately his wolf whines anxiously, his tail swishing back and forth nervously in his mind, at the realization that the female who freed him must be dead if the Lord of the Hunt stalks him still. He should never have let her go; he should have just taken the ring back to the Prince himself, or accepted his end by the people of Falkreath. He curses himself, harshly. Another senseless death caused by him…and he didn't even know her name…

Sinding bares his teeth and lets out a war cry of fury. No more. He will not run any longer. If Hircine wants him, he will have to send his best hunters after him. He will not make it easy for the Prince to skin his hide.

His wolf howls loudly, his flesh cracking and bones breaking to allow the beast to emerge once again. Anger and rage rise to the surface, a ferocity he has not felt since his first time in the transformation, his eyes cloud over in red due to the Prince’s influence instead of their usual deep gold. He stands at the mouth of the cave near the side, partially hidden. With fangs bared, claws extended, and legs ready to pounce, he lays in wait for them.

He spots the first set of hunters barreling through his barricade haphazardly. Before they are able to spot him, he lunges with a great roar, tearing through them with ease, talons shredding leather and metal alike. He dodges their arrows, sidesteps their swings of axes and swords, and bashes right though their shields, shattering the wood and bending the iron with his brute strength. Each one falls, one by one with pained screams, by his bare hands. Hands that he has always resented, but now he uses them to his advantage, gutting and slashing and ripping through the measly hunters that have dared to take Hircine’s offer.

More pour from the cave, bows drawn and swords raised high, and he leads them up the hill, bounding up the stone stairs, turning sharply to the left and to a ledge overlooking his make shift camp, whirling to face the last of his pursuers.

He snarls menacingly as the last one rounds the bend, an Orc in hide armor, a steel greatsword in his hands. The Mer belts out a war cry of his own and dashes at Sinding just as the wolf crouches to dodge the massive swing, but the blow never comes, an arrow piercing through the eye of the green skinned hunter. He snaps his jaw closed and rears his head back in surprise. The Orc drops his sword instantly, falling to his knees and tumbling off the cliff out of sight, a harsh thump resounding as his body hits the forest floor. Confused, the wolf carefully goes to the edge where the Orc fell and looks down into the crevice where the arrow originated.

His breath is taken from him when he spots his unlikely ally.

_The Bosmer._

_She’s alive_

How is she here? Did she come with the hunters? With her Deadric bow in hand and hood up covering her face, she is silent as she remains there, looking up at him. He can barely see her eyes from the distance, the red rubies even more vibrant with the crimson light emanating from the sky. His form casts a shadow on her from the blood moon hanging eerily behind him, creating a dark aura to emerge around her. She doesn’t stay there long and he watches her sprint up the twisting stairs to where he is. He waits with baited breath, his tail flicking eagerly as she emerges from around the corner, keeping his wolf rooted to the ground in anticipation. Her bow has been shouldered, no longer posing a threat, and he tilts his head curiously. He is overjoyed that she is unharmed, that Hircine did not tear her apart, but how did she find him and what is she doing here?

She strides closer to him, not stopping or showing any fear of him in this form and stands directly in front of him, her neck craning up to see his eyes. He worries when he realizes that he can’t speak to her, and wonders if she even recognizes him. Most werewolves look the same in his experience, and the only way to differentiate between them is through smell. Even though his wolf chuffs affectionately at her, he says in his mind, sure that she would never hear it, _“I thought I’d never see you again.”_

She lowers her mask and hood, letting her gorgeous ebony hair free with a shake of her head, the locks framing her face and extenuating her elven features. To his utter shock and surprise, she smiles up at him and responds to his inner thoughts, “Likewise.”

Sinding is stunned, momentarily paralyzed, but his wolf gives a short bark in delight. _“How is it you are able to hear me?”_ He asks.

Her brows come together, but not in anger, “It is difficult to explain.” She hangs her head, shoulders slumped, and he prepares himself for what she is about to say to him, “Hircine has tasked me with killing you, Sinding.”

His heart sinks. So she did arrive with the other hunters. He should have expected this. He knew the Lord of the Hunt would never let him go; he was a fool to think otherwise. And now to have this woman be the one to carry out the deed seems almost fitting for all the wrong he has done in his miserable life. He will not fight her. If she wishes to put an arrow in his heart now, he will accept it. He can think of no other response, defeated, _“So it seems.”_

She raises her head and gazes straight up into this eyes, “I’m not going to do that.”

He hushes his wolfs elation and rebukes her, _“You cannot defy a Daedra and expect to walk free. Use me as an example. I don’t want anyone else to perish for my foolishness.”_ He has no desire to die, but he will not have others suffer for his mistakes. Not again. If his death means that she will live, he would gladly lay down his life for her.

Her voice is soft, “You don’t have a choice in the matter.” She reaches up with her right hand, fingerless black gloves encasing her wrists and she rubs a hand through the fur on his muzzle. He wants to roll his eyes back at her touch, and he leans into her hand, smelling that sweet scent again that makes his head spin and his wolf bare his teeth. He wants to ask her why. Why is she helping him? Why is she endangering herself for him when they have never even met? How is she able to communicate with him? But he is unable to ask these questions, distracted as she lays her other hand on his neck, rubbing in little circles where a mate would place their mark. He and his wolf both melt at her touch. 

Through the hazy bliss of lust, he barely has the ability to ask her the one thing that is most important,_ “What is your name, my beautiful huntress?”_

She gives him that half smile that makes his cock jerk, “Nyreena.”

Oh how he adores that name already, burning it into his memory to keep forever. He grabs her hips in his mighty paws, his clawed digits touching around her waist, and brings her in close to sniff at her throat, reveling in the lavender scent and the sweet musk of her obvious arousal. He licks a line up her throat causing her to shiver and her sweet scent to spike, a soft moan escaping her lips.

He can hear her swallow as she pulls back, and the wolf lets her, but with a whine of irritation. She gives him that powerful smirk as she says, her voice breathless, “Now, we can either stand here while we wait to be slaughtered by Hircine’s other hunters, or we can dispose of them quickly and continue this…conversation uninterrupted. What say you?”

He loves her already.

He lets his wolf answer her with a low growl, which causes her pupils to dilate even more. She grins, grabs her bow from her shoulder, and abruptly sprints down the path leading further into valley. He wastes no time following close behind her, the scent of her still lingering in his nose.

In no time, they come upon more hunters. More like idiotic mercenaries with a death wish. He does not know why Hircine chose this bunch of misfits to try and take him down. It seems like the Prince has lost his ability to sniff out the better hunters, except Nyreena of course and she is on his side of the fight.

She lets her ebony arrows fly as he charges through the crowd of armored men. She is quite skilled with her bow, able to hit her target over his bulky frame as he rips a scrawny Breton’s throat out with his fangs. He has no trouble dodging their attacks, leaning away from their clumsy sword work and tossing them into the rocks to break their bones and shatter their skulls. His beast yowls happily with each mercenary taken down, blood coating his fur and dripping from his claws. It is nearly arousing how his blood sings with the rush of a good fight, letting his wolf create carnage and chaos among the hunters.

Once the last of them have been defeated, his huntress turns to him, panting, with sweat on her brow and a crazed smile on her lips, “We make a good team.” He watches her bite her lip and the lust shine through her eyes, the musky adrenaline of battle thick in the air sparking a different kind of rush to travel straight to his cock. He wastes no time, Nord mind clouded and permitting his beast to run and grab her, picking her up in his arms with ease, intent on taking her back to the fire, stripping her down and fucking her into the mud until she is screaming his name and leaving her own claw marks in his skin.

“Well well, what have we here?”

He growls at the familiar, booming voice and turns to see a large figure cloaked in a white, transparent mist. The helm of a stag’s skull sits upon his head, bare chested with the pelt of a sabre wrapped around his middle and golden gauntlets and boots encasing his limbs. He grips the female in his arms tighter to him, a cold shiver of fear running down his spine as his wolf snarls at the intruder.

Hircine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the smut we have all been waiting for!! Serious credit goes to elven_prophecy for helping me with the smut and beta reading!! Couldn't have gotten this out without you!! :D

Letting the female in his grasp down gently, he takes a protective stance in front of her, not letting the Deadric Prince get anywhere near his mate. His tail swishes with agitation, and he lowers his head with a threatening snarl, his fur raised and his pointed ears laid back.

The Lord of the Hunt is not one to take threats lightly, and he marches towards them both, spear in hand. Sinding lunges at him with a great roar, exposing teeth and claws in a futile attempt to protect his mate, only for Hircine to wave his hand and a flash of sharp pain radiates throughout Sinding’s entire body. His wolf howls in agony and shrinks back into the recesses of his mind, his Nord form emerging from the shedding black fur. He lands on the ground near a large tree, knocking the wind out of him and momentarily paralyzing him. He has no choice but to watch helplessly as the Prince approaches his mate.

The Daedra growls as he passes him, “Mutt.” He continues to Nyreena and Sinding attempts to get up and go to her, protect her, but he is unable to move a single damn muscle.

To his astonishment, she bows to the Prince and addresses him formally, “My lord.”

Hircine stabs his spear upright in the ground and crosses his arms, his voice ethereal, “Huntress. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

With her head still lowered, the pale wood elf confesses, “I couldn’t do as you asked, my lord. I have failed you.”

Sinding has a singular moment where his heart stops in his chest when he sees the Prince raise his hand, sure that he will strike her down at her admittance, but that is not what Hircine does. Instead, his voice changes to that of a doting father, “My dear girl, you have not failed me.” He takes her chin in his hands and raises her eyes to him, “I may have given you the task of slaying this man, but you have bested my other hunters, and that is no small feat. You have proven yourself worthy to me once again.”

A smile graces her lips, “You humble me with your praise, my lord.”

Hircine hums in approval, but his tone shifts to that of admonishment, “Now, I can see that this,” His head turns to sneer at Sinding, “Thief has meaning to you. I will let him live, on one condition.” He turns his attention back to the elf, “If he ever attempts to steal from me again, I will rip the skin from his headless corpse myself, and you will be punished for your misguided affections. Do you understand?”

A relieved sigh escapes her before she bows her head again, “Yes my lord. Thank you.”

“Do not thank me.” The Prince says, “Keep your mate in check and I will have no need to return and collect his hide.” He tilts his head and caresses her cheek for a fleeting moment, until his hand drops to his side, and Sinding is speechless at the Daedric’s show of affection to a mere mortal. He grabs his spear from the earth, and straightens, his spectral tone returning, “Until the next hunt, my dear.” And just as quickly as he appeared, the Lord of The Hunt dissipates into the air. The bloody tinge of the grotto fades back into the white sheen of moonlight, and the calls of birds and wildlife return to the valley.

Sinding feels the paralysis spell wear off as soon as the Prince leaves and he jumps to his feet, uncaring of his nudity, and strides to the Bosmer still bowing her head. He grabs her by her face and lifts it to his, searching her eyes. He pulls her into his arms, holding her close and rubbing his nose into her neck, “Are you alright?”

He pulls back and sees her smile is hardly reassuring, “I’m fine.”

He gestures with his hand along the trail, “Do you want to…?” she nods her head to his unasked question and starts toward the pathway. He follows her down into the main valley were his fire pit remains. He quickly grabs the corpses of the hunters and throws them into a ditch out of the way to be disposed of later. He rummages through some of their packs and pulls out two rolled up bedrolls. Well, they certainly won’t need them anymore.

He takes them and returns to her, laying out the furs and making a decent place for her to sit comfortably. It is not embarrassment that makes him wrap a fur around his waist, but decency as he gestures for her to sit on his bedroll, his eyes watching her intently. She takes his offer with a thankful smile and lowers, crossing her legs and laying her bow and quiver at her side, her hands in her lap twiddling restlessly.

After a moment of silence she says timidly, “I imagine you would like an explanation.” 

He encourages her with a nod, sitting across from her, “One would be nice, yes.”

She takes a deep breathe, lets it out slowly and begins, “My mother was a Bosmer. She migrated to Skyrim long ago, wanting to run away from Valenwood and her family, I’m not exactly sure why.” She picks at the seam of her gloves absentmindedly; lost in her memories, “That’s how she met my father.” she smiles a self-deprecating smile, “He was a Nord.” She motions to her face, “That is why my skin is paler than the usual wood elf you would see.” Sinding watches as her smile shift to a nervous frown, “But he wasn’t just a Nord.” She swallows and looks up into his eyes, “He was a werewolf, like you.” He is not really surprised to hear that. She is too comfortable with him and his beast form to not have close contact with another of his kind.

The elf continues, “He was being attacked by a mercenary company called the Silver Hand, and my mother saved his life.” Sinding has had dealings with the Silver Hand, and they are not a group to be trifled with. He is impressed that her mother was able to rescue him. No wonder Nyreena has such skill in battle with parents such as them, “Short version is, they fell in love and had me.” She smiles and laughs softly at a memory, but does not share it with him, “Everything was perfect for a while until…one night…” Her smile fades and her brows come together in a painful grimace, “There was an argument, I don’t remember what it was about. It was something so trivial, it always was with them.” She sniffs, her eyes glistening in the firelight, “My father he…he lost control. He turned and…he killed my mother.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and a tear runs down her cheek. Sinding shuffles closer to her and takes her fidgeting hands in his own, attempting to give some semblance of comfort. Her voice trembles, “It was an accident, he didn’t mean to…he was…overcome with grief and guilt that he…he was inconsolable.” She uses the back of her hand to wipe away the tear and huffs, “And a few days later, he threw himself from the College’s rails into the Sea of Ghosts. His body was never found.” She shakes her head, “I can only assume that he is dead.”

He rubs the back of her hands with his thumb, his heart aching for her. She inhales sharply and raises her head, her red rubies full of emotion as she lets out a sigh, “That is how I can hear you in your wolf form. Some of my father’s traits past to me, but I cannot transform into a wolf. Only if I drink the blood of another will I be a full werewolf.” She looks away from him and Sinding can sense the nervous tone in her voice, “And…that is why I wanted to help you. I heard your story and it all sounded so familiar. I was young when my father died; there was nothing I could have done to help him.” She grips his hands tighter as another tear falls, her eyes returning to his, intense and focused.

“I couldn’t save him, but I could try and save you.”

Sinding has an overwhelming urge to kiss her, to take her in his arms and shield her from all the trauma she has been through in her life, his wolf agreeing with the sentiment. He lifts one hand from her grasp and lays it on her cheek, wiping the tear away and bringing his thumb down to part her lips. She lets out a gasp at the bold gesture and he can hear her heart race inside her chest. Her ruby eyes flick from his grey ones back to his mouth and with that one look into her lust filled gaze, he can no longer resist her. He lowers his head and kisses her gently. She whimpers at his kiss, letting go of his hand and laying her own on his naked chest. She uses her blunt claws to dig into his torso and that is when the last thread of his control is severed.

He deepens their kiss, opening her mouth with his tongue and diving in deep, feeling her from the inside, her taste enveloping his tongue and causing his cock to harden beneath the furs. He pushes her to lay down on the bedroll and moves between her legs to spread for him automatically. He frames her face with his hands and continues the kiss, all the while she whines and grinds up against him, desperately.

He breaks the kiss and goes to remove her armor, but he has no idea how to even complete such a task, fumbling with the latches as he looks over her for the rest of the restraints keeping him from her body. The tiny elf smirks at him and he playfully growls as she begins to remove her leather gloves and unhooks her cloak attached to her hood, pulling it from under her to lay on the side. He leans back on his heels, the fur around his waist off to the side now, his erection jutting proudly amidst the hair. He watches her intently as she unbuckles the straps keeping her armor in place, shedding it quickly. He salivates, forcing himself to swallow as she is left in nothing but her small clothes. Her skin is pale, sparkling in the moonlight that shines on them both on this clear, winter night.

She keeps her eyes on his as she slowly pulls her chest covering up and over her head, her breasts now bare for his view and he grabs his cock, pumping himself once in his eagerness as she bites at her bottom lip at the sight. Her nipples are peaked and he wastes no time in attaching his mouth to one, suckling and teasing the tip with his teeth and tongue. His wolf keens in his mind, smelling her sweet arousal in the air. She moans and writhes beneath him, carding her fingers through his blonde hair and pulling on the locks to get his attention away from her breasts.

He barely holds back a snarl as she pushes him away, but the smirk on her lips is the only reason why he lets her, curious as to what she is about to do. The wolf however, is not amused. The beast whines in his head, baring its teeth, tail swishing in agitation. He can smell her and he is impatient. Her hands go to the fastenings on her trousers, fingers scrabbling at the laces. His eyes follow her movements, drawn like a moth to the flame. She lets out a nervous giggle and timidly looks up to him and his stomach bottoms out as she breathes, “Can you, help me?”

As if she has to ask.

He growls as he quickly grabs her by the edges of the armor and yanks them down her none too gently, taking all her clothing, including her boots with it. He tosses the garments to the side, uncaring of where it lands. He eyes her hungrily as she looks down, a bit shy at being so exposed. Another animalistic growl rumbles from his chest as she makes an attempt at closing her legs. He stops this, scooting up between them and forcing them apart so he can lay between them. He leans down to kiss her again, wanting to relieve some of the tension and bashfulness. His mouth gently travels down her body, laving her skin with his tongue. She twitches below him as he descends her body, his lips on her breasts, down her belly, and then to the apex of her thighs, to the small thatch of darkened curls covering her mound.

He takes a deep breath as his eyes roll over gold, the scent of her heat clouding his brain and making him unbearably harder. He unconsciously grinds his dick on the bedroll to relieve the pressure as he kisses her thighs, leaving little bites along her flesh until he comes to her center and lays a gentle kiss against her opening.

The elf gasps at his touch, and he opens his mouth to let his tongue swirl around her clit, holding her legs apart for his broader shoulders. He massages her thighs as he licks a strip up her pussy, pausing to pay special attention to the nub hidden in her folds. She reacts by grabbing his hair with one hand and a breast in the other, plucking her nipple and squirming beneath him. His tongue lashes at her clit as he brings up one hand to prod at her opening with a finger, circling the entrance teasingly and spreading the moisture that has gathered there.

She has no warning as he pushes in with one digit, and she chokes on a moan as he slides in to the first knuckle. He covers her clit with his mouth and lavishes his tongue over her, his finger twisting inside of her warmth. Sinding is momentarily stunned at her tightness and wonders briefly if she is untouched, it doesn't occur to him in that moment that Bosmers are a lot smaller than Nords. She tosses her head back and forth as he continues his feasting, her exquisite taste a bounty on his tongue. He focuses on her pearl with quick thrashes of his tongue and slow pumps of his finger that drag along her wet, silky walls. His wolf rumbles with desire at her mewls for more.

The little elf throws her head back with a cry as he feels her tighten around him. He growls against her nub at the feeling of his finger being constricted rhythmically. Her taste explodes on his tongue, her wetness engulfing his hand. His erection twitches impatiently. She whines and tries to push his head away, too sensitive for more of his touch, but he is fixated and ravenous for her, unwilling to let her go. Her legs tremble around him, trying in vain to close against his ministrations. He gives her pussy one, deliberate long lick that makes her catch her breath before she cries out for him to stop. He is reluctant to do so, his beast whining in his head and trying to keep the contact, but he relents, smirking as he pulls away, watching in male satisfaction how her eyes glaze over. He puffs out his chest with pride at being the one to bring her such pleasure.

He does not give her time to rest and slides back up her body, laying kisses on her salt-licked skin. He rubs his cock on her mound, soaking his dick in her juices his saliva, lubricating himself as much as he can. This will be a tight fit. His cock is much bigger than her and he doesn’t want to hurt his mate. Her arms wrap around him and she grinds into him, pulling his head down and molding her mouth to his, surely tasting herself from his lips. She takes him in hand and guides him to her entrance, letting go when his tip catches and gripping his shoulders with a nod of her head.

Sinding pushes into her cautiously, his wolf keening at the pressure; gritting his teeth as he slides in an inch then pulls back only to slide in another inch, letting her adjust to his much larger size. _Gods, she is tight_. He has to keep his wolf from taking over and rutting her into the ground. With every thrust into her, she gasps and tenses her muscles, only causing her to become tighter and forcing him to stop lest he spill into her like an untried youth. He tries to relax her by licking up her throat and using one hand to massage her thigh hooked over his waist. With one more forceful thrust of his hips, he seats himself fully inside her, letting out a carnal growl at being encased fully by his female below him.

He rolls his hips, using his pubic bone to grind against her sensitive pearl as her nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indentions in his skin. She is hot and tight and oh so soft. He picks up a steady rhythm as his mate writhes under him, cooing her pleasure with soft cries and when he hits that spot deep inside her, her cries turn into lustful moans that threaten to make him lose control. He wants to bring her to her peak at least one more time tonight. Her legs rise up around his waist, her ankles locking behind his thrusting hips, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin heightening his desire. He leans down and nips at her plump lips, just as he had wanted to back in that jail cell.

He speeds up the pump of his hips when her cries get louder, more wild, his wolf sensing that his female is close. He pulls back to gaze into her ruby eyes, alight with passion, and he grunts out, “Come for me again. Come on.” At his plea, she tosses her head back and wails, her pussy contracting around his thrusting cock. He groans into her neck at the pressure as she’s squeezing him almost unbearably to the point of needing to stop. The pulsing around his dick continues as her wetness covers his thighs and soaks into the bedroll below them.

He snarls as he picks her up by her shoulders and leans back on his heels, taking her with him so that she is up against his chest. Her thighs spread around his legs as he continues to thrust up into her, the little elf boneless in his grip. Her shaking arms surround his neck and she tries to lift herself up but she is too weak and he uses his hands to grab her waist and lift her up and down on his cock, the new angle hitting further into her cunt. She lays her head on his shoulder, mewling quietly as he takes his pleasure from her body.

Sinding is getting close, the tension in his abdomen signaling that he will not last much longer. He yanks her head back by her ebony hair and his eyes focus in on her throat, his wolf growling at the sight of her pulse throbbing against her skin. His instincts are screaming in his head to bite, to mark, to make her his mate. He struggles with his beast at this proclamation, fighting with it inside his mind. He loses control, and the wolf emerges just enough that his body shifts, his teeth elongating into fangs inside his mouth, Without hesitation, he sinks them into her flesh as the knot that has formed at the base of his dick expands with one final thrust into his female. The metallic taste of her blood sends him over the edge, spilling deep into her cunt and straight into her womb, his knot locking him in place and not letting a single drop escape.

She whines pitifully in distress at the stretch, his dick still twitching with the remains of his release, but he soothes her by licking his mating bite and rubbing his claws on her back, careful of the sharp points. He holds her close as he lays her down and then rolls to his back so that she can lay comfortably on him until his knot recedes. The wolf, satisfied with a successful mating, retreats back into his mind, taking the fangs and claws with it, but his knot remains. Sinding is left panting and exhausted, laying gentle kisses on his trembling female as she calms her own labored breathing, her cunt’s subtle contractions around his knot making it difficult to regain his thoughts.

After a few long moments, eventually, his knot deflates and he is able to slip out of her, a whimper escaping her lips as he does so. He turns with her and lays her down on the bedroll next to him, her leg still thrown over his waist. She nuzzles into his neck and hums with contentment. He smiles and turns to lay a kiss against her hairline, murmuring to her, “You alright?” She just giggles and nods her head, letting out a gratified sigh against his fevered skin. His smile spreads into a grin and he squeezes her closer to him, a sense of ease he hasn’t felt in years surging through him.

After some time has past, he is able to think again and is not clouded by animalistic lust. He still has one glaring question that needs to be answered. He clears his throat awkwardly, running his fingers over her shoulders, “There is still one thing I don’t understand.”

She turns her head up to look at him, “Hmm?”

Her sparkling rubies distract him for a moment before he remembers his question, “Hircine…he seems to have,” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “The Prince seems very fond of you.”

She hums in acceptance and says, “When my father died, I had no one.” Her fingers play with the hair on his chest, “Hircine was fascinated with my birth and has been watching me ever since.” She smiles, though it is halfhearted, “He helped me when I was destitute and alone. I owe him my life.”

He lays his head back in bewilderment, “I have never heard of a Daedra taking interest in mortals except to torture or kill them.”

She laughs softly, resting her head back on his chest, “Yes, it is very unusual.”

He cards his fingers through her hair and smiles warmly when she leans into his touch, “You are a fascinating woman, my mate.” She turns back to look at him and smiles, but it is cut short by a yawn she tries to hide with her hand. He brings her back into his arms, “Sleep now.” He whispers, “It has been a long night and in the morning, we can discuss where we go from here.”

She falls asleep quickly, her breathing slowing and her heart beating a steady rhythm. He takes the furs and curls it around her, keeping her warm and tight against him. He hopes that since she has accepted his bite and his seed, that she will stay with him, perhaps even become like him fully, and live in this paradise with their pups forever. It may be foolish to presume as much, but when has Sinding ever been anything but a fool?

When this night began, he was sure that his death was going to be the only outcome. Now that he has his mate in his arms and the Lord of the Hunt off his back, he can finally look toward the future. Gazing up into the moonlight that has always been a sign of torment, he can now see it as a beacon of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is the end for Sinding and Nyreena! I hope you enjoyed it because I certainly loved writing it!! Thank you for reading!! :D


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